Thinking Things All The Way Through

In a fit of muse-inspired energy (or something in the water), I decided our writing group should put out a magazine and do a reading.  The idea was that it would give everyone practice for “real” readings and magazine submissions.  It wouldn’t be that difficult, I thought; just a matter of organising the people.


The magazine is – yes, you may laugh at me – not as easy as I thought it would be.  There were no submission criteria: no word limits, no themes, no pre-requisite publication.  Just make it good and send it in.  I thought this would result in a not-terribly-professional-but-very-interesting assortment of writing.  About half of what I was sent is precisely what I was expecting.  That writing is good.  The authors have obviously gone through the effort of doing re-writes and having someone proofread for errors, etc.  In fact, this stuff is entirely professional and should be out in the real magazines already.

Then, there’s the other stuff.

I spend a lot of time trying to avoid politics.  I now see I’ve painted myself into a political corner and handed everyone rotten tomatoes.  There’s no way they’re going to be happy with me.  Perhaps I want too much.  Perhaps there’s no way to make the writers  happy and keep the readers interested.

I’m screwed.

The reading seems to be going better than the magazine, but I haven’t really worked on it that much.  ‘Round about a week before, I’m sure it will all hit the fan, too.

Yesterday, I had tea with another writer from Port Credit.  I like spending time with writers.  We have a unique view of the world, and a unique view of language.  There’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to explain to  other writers, like how Margaret Laurence used to be god but then I grew up.  Even if they don’t generally read Margaret Laurence, they understand how you can outgrow a stagnant writer; they understand how a sentence can please you one day and bore you the next.  They understand ink and paper. And silence.  Good writers are often very quiet, I’ve noticed.  They spend a lot of time watching and listening.  Of course, watching and listening to another writer can be a little counter-productive, so we usually watch the other people.

Coffee shops were invented for writers.  So were bars, but I can’t afford that.   Wish I was Charles Bukowski.  While I’m sure he personally would have disgusted me, he had astounding people-watching skills.  Would have made the bars worthwhile.

One of my former students helped start this blog.  I love reading it, especially when the world is seeming rather heavy.  Their perspectives are so fresh and (they’ll kill me) child-like.  No, not “child-like”: innocent.  No, either way, they’ll kill me.  In any case, give it a read.  See if you learn anything.

Back to the magazine….

3 responses to “Thinking Things All The Way Through

  1. SHIIIEEEELLLAAA!!! i still dont know if your name is the “ie” or “ei” kind of name… EITHERWAY!!! YOU ARE GONE!! and i miss you, and i didnt really read this thing i happen to be commenting on, but i still felt like commenting you know? 😀 plus you will fur suuuure check it! you should come back for a class… because i intentionally spelt “for” like “fur” because i knew it would erk you just a tad. so reply back with something fascinating, or come back to wisdom, or choose to be engulfed in my slang, poor grammar and punctuation… face the wrath of my lovely illiteracy 😀 anyways email me back at you know what email 😀 MIIIISSSS YOU!

    urs truly… NICOLE!! 😀 (your former student 😥 )


  2. “Irk”, Nicole, “irk”; not “erk”. That little red line isn’t just a decoration, dear. 😛

    Miss you, too. 🙂


  3. Yeah: I am going to kill you for calling our views ‘child-like’… 😛


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